Promises and a Table for Two
by soyforramen
Summary: After graduation, Rogue goes on a road trip to escape the madness of the institute. But a chance meeting with a certain Cajun throws everything out the window.
1. Offer: Part 1, or Southern Tin Kitsch

Rogue fought back a yawn as she eyed the run down restaurant in front of her. As hungry as she was, this sort of place wasn't her idea of a homely establishment, especially after eating her fill of Kentucky BBQ in Louisville the past three days. And as good as the food had been it hadn't been enough to extinguish the sense of homesickness she'd been carrying around the last few weeks. As much as she'd fantasized about actually getting away from the mansion, the last six months had been little more than a haze of long highways, cheap motels, and bland franchise food. It wasn't until the holidays came and went that she began to miss the chaotic nature of the institute. That longing for a sense of home was probably the only reason why she ever agreed to come here in the first place. That and she never could say no to the mansion's other resident Southern. Though she and Sam shared few interests, the one thing they could bond over was the lack of properly brewed sweet tea and a mutual hatred of the North's passing attempt at chili.

With a sigh of resignation, Rogue cut the engine to her bike and pulled her bag from the storage compartment. Despite her loneliness, she was still stubborn enough to see this trip through for the next three months. If she went back now she'd be proving to everyone else that she was still helpless, still at the mercy of her own chaotic powers. Lose control of your powers twice after saving the world from a domineering maniac and suddenly everyone in the mansion turned into a mother hen.

It didn't help that she and the other X-Men had become household names once the news media finally realized how close the world had come to ending. It was only in the past half a year that she'd been able to go anywhere without being recognized and she'd jumped at the freedom it offered, selling the Professor some bullshit line about needing to find herself away from the rest of the mansion. Now, though, she'd have gladly traded eating alone in this dump for the hustle of trying to get a bagel in the morning. If she was lucky tonight would be a highlight in an otherwise uneventful trip, but knowing Sam taste in food that was unlikely.

A light wind picked up as she began the long slow walk towards the entry way and she pulled her coat closer around her. She might have promised to eat here but that didn't mean she had to be pleasant about it.

"Mais, jamais d'la vie! Didn't expect such a pretty face t'be greetin' me this far from home," a man drawled from the alley way behind her.

Every hair on Rogue's neck stood on end at the voice and she fought to keep her body relaxed despite the anxious chatter that had kicked up in her head. "Can I help you?" she asked tightly, shifting her stance as she turned towards the shadows.

A sharp flare came from the alley, the light caressing the lines of the man's face before disappearing into the night. Her jaw clenched as red on black eyes peered out at her. "Sure hope so, p'tite."

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him. "What the hell you doing this far from the swamp, Gumbo?"

Gambit only grinned and pulled the cigarette from his lips. "Could be askin' the same of you. After Area 51 I'm surprised the spook's letting any of ya'll out to play."

"Go fuck yourself, Gambit," she snarled, turning on her heel before she lunged at him. Leave it to that coward to bring up the worst incident the X-Men had to date. The memories of that week still haunted her, the afterimages of the experiments burned deeper in her mind than any psyche could hope to. It still left a bitter taste in her mouth when she thought of it, a taste that even the best Southern bourbon couldn't wash out.

She'd barely gone two steps before a light touch on her wrist made her pause from its offered intimacy. "D'sole, Rogue. I only know what they reported on the news," he murmured.

Rogue jerked her hand away and tried to force the sudden tension from her shoulders. "They had those kids strung up on the walls like slabs of meat. Those tests they were running." Her voice fell flat, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought back tears. "They weren't any more than a lab rat to the government. When we got there there had to have been at least a hundred locked up in cages. Most of them were younger than Jaimie, just looking for a hot meal and a place to sleep after being kicked out of their homes for being different. The bastards didn't even have the decency to bury them, just shot them and threw them in a pit to rot. Bet the news skipped that part," she spat. Her chest clenched and she bit her tongue to keep the sorrow and anger at bay.

"Didn't know it was anything more than a botched recon mission. I should have been there," he finally said. His voice carried more of an apology than she realized him capable of.

Rogue swallowed hard and blinked back her tears. "Yeah, well. You would have if you cared enough to answer your damn phone."

When he didn't respond Rogue walked into the restaurant without a backward glance.

xxxxx

To call the bar nee restaurant a dump would have barely scratched the surface of what greeted Rogue. Pieces of junk from every era hung from the ceiling, a miserable ode to bygone days where everything appeared to be made from tin and kitsch. Dust clung to everything higher than six feet off the ground while spiderwebs drifted lazily in time with the fans.

"How many?" the older, bored woman with frizzing grey hair asked as she approached.

"Just one, please," Rogue replied. Her bag caught something and she jerked back only to find a stuff possum grinning up at her.

"Your friend ain't joining ya?" the woman asked, her eyes shifting towards the door. A hand at her shoulder and a wash of tobacco smoke let her know she'd been followed.

"Damnit, Cajun. Get your sleezy hands off of me," she hissed.

For once Gambit let go without a word. Rogue turned to face him, fists clenched in anger. He held his hands in front of him and Rogue couldn't decide whether it was an offer of peace or a defensive move.

"At least let Remy buy you dinner," he said when she didn't move to strike him.

Rogue stared at him long enough that the hostess cleared her throat impatiently. "Why?"

"To make up for his manners out there," he said, tossing his head in the direction of the door.

The hostess pursed her lips and stared between the two, obviously desperate for some sort of gossip in the sleepy town.

Rogue ignored her and stared down the man in front of her. "What the hell do you want with me, Cajun?"

"Easy," he said with a grin. "Marry me."

xxxx


	2. Offer: Part 2, or The Legal Route

Offer: Chapter 2, or the Legal Route

"So, table for two then?" the hostess asked, grabbing two menus and walking towards the back of the restaurant before Rogue's shock wore off.

When she didn't refuse him, Gambit's grin widened and he held his arm out to her. Her lip curled in derision and she shoved by him, ramming her shoulder into his as she passed, hunger making her stubborn enough to refuse to be the first to leave. With any luck he'd get the hint and leave, though Rogue knew from prior experience she wouldn't be rid of him until he'd said his piece. True to form, the thief slid into the seat across from her and it was all she could do to keep from throwing the table at him. He matched her glower with his own steady gaze.

"Whatever it is you're on about it ain't funny. You know as well as I do that chance that's ever gonna happen for me is slim to none," she growled, her accent thickening in anger. He idly watched as she ripped the menu open and steadfastly ignored his presence.

"Not tryin' to be funny," he said.

At his soft tone Rogue glanced up at him. "Then why -"

"Drinks?" a bored teenager interrupted, tapping his pen against a pad of paper in irritation.

"Two whiskeys. Neat," Gambit said, never taking his eyes from her. The waiter wandered off without bothering to check for I.D.

Rogue pursed her lips and stared at the man in front of her. "The hell you going on about now, Gambit?"

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. In the brighter light of the restaurant it was apparent he hadn't slept in days, let alone had a proper shower in twice as long. "Got backed into a corner I can't get out of by myself," he admitted sullenly. Before he could say anything else the waiter came back and set the drinks on the table, walking off before Rogue could ask for anything else.

"To family," Gambit said bitterly. He raised the glass in a mock toast before knocking back half the glass.

Rogue ignored her drink in favor of glaring at him from across the table. She was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower herself after driving nine hours to the middle of B.F. Kentucky. Any patience she might have had was quickly beginning to evaporate. "Tell me what you want or I'm leavin'," she warned.

When the Cajun didn't respond, Rogue shoved her chair back and stood up. "Whatever it is you're playin' at, I don't want any part of," she told him, grabbing her bag and turning to leave.

The sound of a chair scraping against linoleum rang out as Gambit grasped at her arm. "Rogue, please," he rasped. "At least hear me out."

Rogue ripped her arm from his for the third time that night and gave him a long hard look. In the short time she'd known him Gambit had never looked this desperate for salvation. Ever since Blood Moon Bayou he'd always had an easy grin and a devil-may-care attitude that was the envy of half the guys on the team. His desperation scared her and despite her own misgivings about the thief she was concerned about the man in front of her. Lord only knew what he got up to when left to his own devices, but as far as anyone knew the man only had himself to rely upon. He'd long since cut professional ties with Jean Luc, but he'd never been able to cut out his family entirely. If things were bad enough for him to seek her out for help -

'He isn't your enemy, Rogue. All he needs is someone that will listen and believe in him,' Xavier's soft voice whispered. If he does need help that you aren't able to provide, we're only a call away.'

'Don't turn your back on him, Stripes,' Logan countered. 'He has no loyalties to anyone but himself.'

'Even though he saved Kurt in Alaska and totally injured himself in the process?' Kitty shot back loudly, her argumentative tone riling up the rest of the more fully formed psyches.

Closing her eyes tightly against the rising tide of voices, Rogue focused on drawing her mental shield around herself. It took far more effort now that she'd gotten into the habit of letting them chitter amongst themselves while on the road. When the voices were whispers once more, Rogue sat back down, pointedly ignoring the concerned look that crossed his face.

"Me askin' that wasn't just small talk, Gambit," she began, taking on the tone she usually reserved for training sessions with the new mutants. "Tell me what's goin' on, now, or I will be out that door in five seconds. Even if I have to take you out to do it."

Gambit sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he picked at the table. In this moment he looked like the twenty year old man he was and not like one of INTERPOL's top ten most wanted. In their line of work it was far too easy to forget just how young they were. It was easier to label him as an untrustworthy, selfish thief rather than to admit to the similarities between them. Despite her mistrust and misgivings about his intentions, he had proven time and again that he would be there when she needed him, so long as he wanted to be reached.

'And he did send you all those books when you were in the Medlab last time,' Kitty softly reminded her, slipping away before Rogue could react.

Her decision made, Rogue reached for her glass. "Just because I'm still here don't mean I'm agreein' to anything," she reminded him.

"Je connais," he murmured as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He brushed his thumb against its end and watched it burn for a moment, lost in thought. "M'ember the Rippers?" Rogue gave him a small nod when he glanced at her. "Don't know how much you picked up, but that's the street arm of the Assassin's Guild. Jean Luc's decided fightin' with them's bad for business and he's decided to offer up an olive branch."

"Let me guess. You've the dove to deliver it," Rogue said slowly despite already knowing the answer. She knew first hand what went on in the Guild Master's head after the last time she'd been dragged into one of Gambit's schemes. The ghost the master thief had left behind had been well versed in the art of manipulation, so much so that a month after Rogue had absorbed him she found herself halfway home with stolen goods before realizing what she'd done. Once she'd finally put the pieces together, she'd sought out the Professor and together they'd been able to purge most of Jean Luc's psyche. At times he still appeared, whispering suggestions that even her mother would be proud of.

"Oui." Gambit nodded and pulled at his cigarette. "Only this time he's decided that I marry the heiress of the Assassin. 'For the good of us all." He gave a wry chuckle and sipped at his whiskey. "Un jolie petite chose who'd rather castrate me than say hello."

Rogue watched his face as he spoke, looking for any sign of deception. As if sensing her disbelief Gambit's psyche, barely a whisper even directly after absorption, brought forward an image of the woman in question. A blonde slip of a woman, no older than Rogue herself, who looked more the type you'd pay to babysit your kids rather than someone who'd slit your throat for a buck. Yet Rogue was far more aware than most that appearances weren't always what they seemed.

"And what does she want out of this?"

"Wealth. Fame. Blood, preferably mine," the thief said with a shrug. "Known her since we were kids. Thought I loved her once."

"And now?"

"Now I wouldn't even wish her on Tolansky," he said wryly.

Rogue snorted and sipped at her drink. "Sounds like she and I might get along."

At her words, Gambit leaned back in his seat and appraised her. Despite her discomfort, Rogue refused to fidget under his gaze. "You probably would," he decided.

Ignoring the implication of his words, Rogue cleared her throat. "If you don't want to marry her just tell them you're not gonna do it. They can't make you marry her if you don't want to."

Gambit snorted. "You forgettin' how the family works. You do what you're told. No other option if you want to live."

"Then come back to New York. The Professor will take you in. His offer doesn't ever expire."

He shook his head and flicked the ash off his cigarette. "And bring the Rippers up with me? Won't work, p'tite. They'll be after blood if I run, and won't think twice about killin' anyone in their way. I can't do that to you and yours after everythin' ya'llve done for me."

"And what makes you think they won't come after you or your 'new wife'?" Rogue asked, still trying to figure out why he'd ever think she'd agree to this.

Gambit shot her a conspiratorial wink and threw back the rest of his drink. "If she does go after me or my 'new wife' she'd be the one throwin' down the glove. Guild law states that anyone married into the family is off limits for thievin' or killin' unless agreed upon beforehand. And if that rules broken -"

"Exile," Rogue said, the knowledge spilling off her tongue as Julien whispered half forgotten tales of past guild wars in her ear.

He gave her a sharp look and nodded. "And the only thing Jean Luc and Marius agree on is that they're good Catholics who pay their tithes and say their Hail Mary's. And good Catholics don't ever condone bigamy. Or divorce. Leavin' me with only the legal way out."

"Betcha' ain't said that before," Rogue muttered.

Gambit smirked as he waved down the waiter for another round. While he ordered, Rogue played with the condensation on her glass. The story he'd laid in front of her was outlandish at best. At worst it was a fever dream of a man she already suspected to be recklessly insane on a good day. For all she knew this was yet another of his attempts to drag her into helping him with another questionably legal scheme. It wasn't above him to give her just enough rope to hang herself on his half-spoken truths and convenient omissions.

And yet he'd come to her with this ridiculous scheme. It wasn't as if it was the first, or last, time he'd asked for her help. Rather, it was the fact that he felt he was forced to go to this extreme, the consummate bachelor retreating to something he'd sworn off long ago. In all his other schemes he'd been brass tacks and bravado, so sure in what he was doing that everyone else went along with it regardless of whether it made sense. But now there was something else to it, something that he wouldn't tell her until they were neck deep in trouble and she needed him too much to be able to kill him when she found out.

Besides, it wasn't as if Gambit was lacking in options in the ladies' department. Hell, half the girls at the institute would gladly trip over themselves and each other to be able to have dinner with the man, let alone be propositioned by him. Jubilee and Amara had even gone so far the last time he'd visited of trying to spill drinks on him in the hopes he'd take off that dingy jacket of his for once. The question now was, what was the carrot in all of this? The thing that made him so cocky, so sure that she'd agree to his scheme.

Her curiosity finally got the better of her and she leaned back in her chair. "What's in it for me? What could you possibly offer that could tempt me into marriage and waltzing into a den of thieves to save your sorry ass?"

Gambit gave her a tight smile and despite her tough facade, Rogue found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

"Simple, p'tite. Control."


	3. Consideration: Part 1, or Magnetic Pull

Consideration: Chapter 3, or Magnetic Pulls

"What?" Rogue whispered. Her eyes widened and she felt as if she were drowning in her expectations. This was the last thing she'd have imagined him offering, the only thing she wanted more than anything.

Having caught her attention, Gambit leaned closer as a ghost of a grin sprang onto his face. "Guild legend says the 'sassin's have a stone hidden away somewhere. Say they've used it to give people their heart's desire. Power, money, fame," he said softly, his eyes boring into hers. Try as she might she found she couldn't draw away from him. Her body felt like someone else's as she leaned towards him, her hands drawing tighter around her glass as she listened. "Heard tell it made a woman fall madly in love with a man. Leastways until he did something the 'sassin's didn't like and they took her love away. Then she went after him with a butcher's knife and they're still dredgin' up pieces of him whenever someone gets a hankerin' for gator."

Rogue scoffed, whatever spell he'd woven broken by his crass humor. Of course the man would lay the solution for her life on the table in front of her then remind her it was nothing more than an old wives' tale. The reality that her powers would likely never be controlled hit her hard once more. Even with the power negating collar they'd found off of a Friends of Humanity nutcase had only slowed her powers, a stream where it had once been as wide and strong as the Mississippi itself.

"Those fairytales are about as useful as tits on a boar hog," she scolded, embarrassed that she'd let himself get taken in by the showman in front of her.

Gambit smiled at her and slid a cell phone across the table at her. She looked at him curiously and picked up the phone. A video was queued up, a stilled picture showing an empty warehouse lot at dusk. Rogue raised a questioning eyebrow and hit the play button.

At five seconds, a figure with long green hair stepped into the frame, their back blocking most of the lot. The camera shifted to a warehouse no more than one hundred yards away. After a few seconds, the camera zoomed in until the warehouse was the only thing in the frame. Then, with a piercing shriek of metal upon metal, the warehouse collapsed in on itself until. An offscreen voice orders, "Again," and the camera shifted to a second warehouse already falling.

Rogue watched, enthralled, as the camera pulled back until the woman and a third warehouse filled the screen. With little more than a flick of the wrist, the final warehouse fell in on itself.

The figure turned, a bored look on their face as if this was nothing more than a trip to the store. Sirens cut through the air and the woman was bathed in white light from above. Without ever looking up the figure tilted their head and a helicopter cam crashing down into the third collapsed warehouse. Flames flicked upwards and the screen went black. Rogue hit play once more as Gambit began talking.

"Polaris, ., Lorna Dane. Able to move small amounts of metals susceptible to magnetism, up to three pounds. Able to manipulate said metals in small quantities. Powers manifested in third year of college during interviews for a Master's placement in geophysics. Can produce a low level forcefield if placed under adequate stress. Delta class mutant," he said, his words sounding as if he were reading them from a file. Probably Magneto's intel, Rogue decided from the mutant classifying system.

"Least until about six months ago," Gambit continued, his voice slipping back into his natural patois. "Julian went looking for a mutant to manipulate metal and found Lorna Dane. Wasn't able to do more than bend spoons at that time, though. Then Polaris shows up taking out buildings and airplanes out on the Gold Coast."

"Why are you tellin' me all this?" She hit the play button again.

"Good authority says the stone created Polaris. And rumor says the stone's back in Louisiana"

Rogue snorted and put the phone down, the video still playing. "Rumor's been saying a lot lately. Might want to learn to keep their mouth shut. That all you have to offer?"

"Worth a look into, don't you think? Better than that meditation the spook's having you do," Gambit said idly, leaning back into his seat and stubbing out what was left of his cigarette.

Rogue scowled at him for the reminder of her 'training' sessions before she'd left. Despite her faith in her mentor, she couldn't help but agree with Gambit's assessment. Meditation did nothing for her mutation aside from teaching her how to ignore the crowds in her head. "Still doesn't explain why the X-Men haven't heard of such a powerful mutant."

He shrugged. "Who's to say they haven't? You been on the road what, four months now? She might be snug and cozy in your old bed for all you know."

"Please. If there was a new mutant Kitty wouldn't pass up the chance for gossip," she said. His words did their damage, though. Rogue hadn't heard anything outside of personal news when she did get in touch with the mansion. The students knew all too well that the less said about missions the better, especially over the phone. "Your little video doesn't prove a damn thing. Roberto and Ray could photoshop that in three days. Tops."

At her challenge Gambit's face lit up and he dragged the phone towards him. He tapped at the screen a few times and pulled up a different video before placing it in front of her. Grudgingly Rogue pressed play.

The opening shot showed the green haired figure - Polaris - rising above a rooftop. For a moment the mutant scanned the scene; once they spotted the camera, Polaris went into a full out run and the camera jolted around as the person filming ran from her. Rogue looked away quickly; shaky cameras always made her nauseous.

"Here," Gambit said after a few seconds, bringing her attention back to the phone.

Now the camera appeared to have been placed somewhere, set so that it showed a mostly empty car lot. Polaris hovered over the car lot, picking up cars and tossing them away as she searched for something. A dark figure slipped between cars leaving a trail of magenta light behind him. A few seconds later an explosion shook the camera, tilting the camera almost 90 degrees. Gambit rewound the video and pressed play again, this time at one tenth of the speed. As the explosion blossomed out, Polaris pulled each piece of metal to her, bending it into spears and sending them back towards the explosion. A moment later the camera went black.

"That was two weeks ago in Montreal," he murmured.

"Do I want to know what you did to piss her off?" she shot back. Rogue pulled off a glove and rewound the video before the explosion.

"Moi? P'tite, why you gotta always be thinkin' the worst of Remy?" he asked in faux outrage.

"Cause Remy never done nothing to prove otherwise," she shot back. "Still doesn't prove nothing."

He shrugged at her disbelief and slipped the phone into his pocket. "Doesn't disprove anythin' either." A silence fell between them and Rogue wondered how long he'd stick around after failing to convince her. "Tennessee next?"

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him. "Thought you gave up stalkin' me for Lent."

"Remy never stalks," he reminded her as he light another cigarette. "He only acquires necessary information. Besides, Chicken-Fry owed me a favor."

At the reference to Sam, Rogue ground her teeth. Next time she saw him, she'd make sure Sam knew better than to leak information to outside parties, regardless of any favors owed.

"And yet you're still here, occupyin' my booth, breathin' my air. You have no proof that rock did anythin' other than those two videos with bad graphics on them. Probably hitched her up to some pulleys and paid some kid fifty bucks to make that." Gambit raised an eyebrow at her obvious attempts to irritate him but said nothing. Rogue continued, trying to convince them both that the video wasn't worth the price he was asking for. "Even if Polaris is a mutant, that don't mean those powers aren't the result of a growth spurt or some hormonal thing. Last time Bobby shot up two inches he froze over the entire mansion for two months. In June."

"She's twenty-eight."

Rogue frowned. That meant Polaris was far too old for a growth spurt. According to Dr. McCoy the likelihood of an adult coming into or advancing mutant powers was impossible.

'If I may?' Mr. McCoy's specter began, far too polite to offer advice or information unasked. Rogue gave a small mental nod. 'It's not impossible, per se, for an adult to develop mutant powers. It's merely unheard of without outside influences such as genetic manipulation. One's mutation is, for lack of a better phrase, switched on once the body's natural hormones begin changing during adolescence and early adulthood. Hence why one's X-Gene commonly expresses itself during one's early teens."

'And this rock he's goin' on about is one of those outside influences?' Rogue thought.

'Indeed, though I would not be able to form an adequate answer without seeing it in action. I would advise treading carefully, my dear, as there is no guarantee that this 'rock' of his has any lasting effect, nor is there any way of knowing what repercussions it may bring if one were to come into contact with it,' Mr. McCoy said. He slipped into the back of her mind, leaving only the sorrow of failed attempts to control his own mutation.

Oblivious to her inner conversation, Gambit slipped another cigarette between his lips. "Believe me or not, your call. S'enough proof for me to look into. Good authority says it brought the Kennedy's power, gave an empire to Napoleon, made Hatshepsut a god among men."

Rogue rolled her eyes, refusing to let the spark of hope grow any bigger. "If 'good authority' is another one of your contacts, I pass."

"Y' give up too easy, Rogue," he chided. "At least ask what you really want to know."

She flinched at the temptation lacing his voice and reached to tug her glove back on. They both knew he was offering something more than just simple touch, that he'd been offering it since they'd first met. Yet Rogue continued to pretend that whatever it was didn't exist, that they were nothing more than occasional, forced colleagues.

"How do you know it works?"

He grinned and Rogue knew he was trying not to laugh at her stubbornness. "Magneto's files. All backed up by your Professor's Cerebro." Rogue stilled as he laid his winning hand on the table before her. "'pparently they both been looking for this thing a while, though neither's any closer to findin' it. Buckethead went all over looking for it and traced it to Peru before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Xavier hired someone in Australia last year to look for it after the number of mutants spiked down there."

Rogue reached for her glass and drank deeply to keep the sting of betrayal at bay.

'I had no way of knowing if the stone was real or a myth,' the Professor's calm voice whispered to her. 'Without solid proof it would have been cruel to raise your hopes on such a gamble, especially when we have no way of determining the stone's effects on -'

"But you know where the stone is," Rogue said, her tone flat as she shut out the Professor's plea for understanding. Gambit nodded. "Why should I believe you?"

"What other option do you have?"

None, she thought.

Rogue chewed at the inside of her cheek. If the stone was big enough that the Professor and even Magneto would try to track down, didn't that mean it was worth going after? She was almost twenty and she'd yet to have any 'break-through' with control over her mutation. Everyone else that had come through the mansion's doors had long ago surpassed her and had become an asset to the team. Yet she was still a liability, her mutation only helpful if she could touch someone and keep their mental imprint at bay. Lord knew she wasn't any closer than when she joined Mystique at fourteen.

She was tired of protecting everyone else from accidental contact, of protecting herself from the onslaught of voices in her head. She was tired of the knowing looks during the summer, of the subtle no-go zone that always followed her wherever she went. She was tired of landing herself in the Medbay when the voices became too much. She was tired of fighting off everyone that she touched.

But was she really willing to marry Remy Lebeau of all people for a chance at normalcy? More importantly, would she be able to live with herself if she walked away from this offer, from the possibility of control? Could she go back to doing the same damn exercises with the same failed results for the rest of her life?

This whole thing was so ridiculous, she thought. That the notorious skirt-chaser, the man with a compulsive need to touch everything, coming to her of all people. The woman who couldn't be touched, the woman who traded sanity for intimacy. The idea of it sent a wave of wry amusement through her and she couldn't help but laugh.

Gambit frowned and she wondered whether it was because he thought she was laughing at him or if he was concerned she'd finally snapped. "Something Remy said?"

Rogue did her best to quell her laughter and ended up snorting. "This whole thing's insane, ain't it? You off all people wanting to get married. And to me? The untouchable?" She snickered again and his frown deepened.

Instead of joining in he fixed her with a dark stare that quickly dampened her humor. "Who says I don't want to be with you, Rogue? Just because I can't touch your skin don't meant you can't be touched," he said, his honey bourbon tone licking flames down her spine.

Her humor now gone, Rogue absently tugged her sleeves further down her arms as she tried to forget another man who had told her the same thing. She knew firsthand just how touchable she really was, so long as her partner was brave enough to risk it. When her powers had first developed she'd spent nights lying awake trying to find ways around her skin no matter how ridiculous and practical it was. Yet Gambit was still the only one crazy enough to try every single one and relish doing so.

"And what's to stop you from going out and finding someone you can be with? Someone you can touch?" she shot back, unwilling to let him take the point. She flinched at how vulnerable her voice sounded. "I don't take kindly to cheaters."

Gambit's eyes narrowed at her implied accusation. "Neither do I. Always did believe in 'Til death do they part.'"

"Great, a thief with a morality code," she muttered. Rogue dropped her eyes to the table between them. "Next you'll be telling me you been helpin' lil' ole ladies cross the street and fixin' up broken down school buses in your free time." When he didn't respond, Rogue glanced up to find him watching her. "How do I know this isn't another play of yours?"

"You don't," Gambit admitted. He laid his half-finished cigarette on the ashtray and brought his hands on top of the table. "Could always get your answers the easy way."

Rogue froze as he leaned forward and laid his hands in front of her, palms up. Curiously, his hands were still gloved. With a start she realized that, like her, he never went anywhere without them. The only difference was that the fabric of his covered all but the last two knuckles of his fingers.

There was a thin, white scar that ran along the side of his thumb and she stared at it to avoid meeting his eyes. "Why do you always wear gloves, Remy? It's not like you need them," she said softly. When he didn't answer she dragged her eyes up to meet his.

Gambit's face had hardened and Rogue expected him to deflect her question with a crass joke.

To her surprise, he slowly peeled his gloves off and laid them on the table in between them, a supplicant making an offer at a temple. "First time I put a charge in somethin' I damn near blew my arm off. Took three months to repair the damage to the sittin' room," he said with a morose chuckle. His eyes dropped to stare at the gloves trapped between his arms. "Kind of like how your powers came about. 'Cept instead of takin', I gave."

He stilled as Rogue brought her hand, still gloved, to trace the scared webbing on his left hand, barely a whisper of air between the two.

"Couldn't touch anythin' without blowin' it up. Clothes, forks, pillows. Took some time but we figured I couldn't explode natural materials. Wound up wearing kid gloves for almost three years. I didn't do anything without them. Eatin'. Sleepin'. Trainin'. For a while I even showered with them on. 'ventually I learned how to pull the charge back in, but by that time I was so used to wearin' them I never stopped."

"Why cut off the fingers then?" she asked. They both watched as her fingers danced idly along one particularly nasty scar that went almost to his elbow. Gambit shuddered at her light touch and Rogue yanked her hand back at the look in his eyes.

"Have to touch something to make it burn, sha."

Rogue reached for what remained of her whiskey and finished off the glass. The cool burn did little to alleviate the heat his eyes left on her skin. "Still don't explain why you'd want to be tied to me the rest of your life."

He chuckled and the sound of it razed a deeper burn than his eyes. " 'm a thief, remember? And a mutant. If I'm lucky, I'll see this side of thirty."

"Funny, I thought I'd make at least thirty-five with the X-Men."

Gambit gave her a wry grin and waved down the waiter. While they waited she thought it over. There were worse offers, she decided. It wasn't as if she despised the sight of him. He'd made it clear enough in the bayou that if she wanted him to leave her be all she had to do was say the word. And he'd certainly never said they had to act as if they were married. From what he'd said the fact of a marriage was enough to keep him out of his family's drama. Besides, it wasn't as if they couldn't annul it when everything was said and done. He'd never said anything about staying in the marriage. She could pay the price of a few years for a lifetime of freedom.

"If I do this it don't mean I'm gonna' sleep with you," she finally said.

He jerked his head to look at her. As a grin slid onto his face Rogue felt as if she'd lost a battle she hadn't even know she was fighting. "Never said you had to. All Remy's askin' is that you sign where they tell you to, raise your right hand, and when they ask tell them, 'Why yes, I do take this handsome gentleman for my husband.'"

Rogue scowled and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Didn't think they took kindly to lyin' under oath." At his questioning look, she added, "You ain't any gentleman that I've ever met."

"But I am handsome," he said, looking as pleased as a child being realizing they were getting cake for breakfast.

"Never said otherwise."

With the grin still on his face, Gambit stood up and laid a few bills on the table. It isn't until he's halfway towards the door that Rogue calls out to him.

"What if this rock of yours turns out to be nothin' more than a faberge egg? What if it doesn't work?"

Gambit turns and gives her a look that makes her wonder if he's been thinking the same thing.

"Then I'll go to the ends of the earth and back to find you something that will," he says before leaving the restaurant.

He sounds so sincere that Rogue wants to believe him.


	4. Consideration: Part 2, or Conversations

Consideration: Chapter 4, or Conversations with a Frenemy

Rogue rolled over on the cheap motel bed once more, trying to find a comfortable position. With a groan she flipped over the pillow and pressed her face into the cool fabric. Slowly, she counted down from one hundred; she made it to eighty-one before sitting up and glaring at the bedside clock. It only blinked at her.

For the past two days she'd been trying to pretend that Gambit didn't exist. That his offer of control was little more than a delusion of greasy food and cheap whiskey. Try as she might she still hadn't been able to get his offer out of her mind.

Barely an hour after he'd left she'd received two texts from an unknown number, likely a burner phone. 'If you're coming, be at the Baton Rouge courthouse in three days.' Two minutes later, 'If not, I'll see you around.'

Since then he hadn't contacted her. It should have been easy enough to delete the two texts and go on about her business, but his offer was too tempting. This morning she'd been able to think of nothing else as she packed the few clothes she'd brought. Long sleeves, worn from year round use. Old jeans that were starting to rip around the back pockets. And five pairs of gloves; one for riding, one for day-use and two back-ups, and one for fighting. She stared at the gloves, wondering what it would be like to go even a day without them. Would she be able to go without them, even if she had control? Or would she go on like Gambit and continue to wear them, a shield against the world?

It wasn't until yesterday that she'd decided to head south. Thirty miles outside of Nashville she'd made a sudden U-Turn on the highway and headed towards Louisiana, making it to a small hotel on the outskirts of Baton Rouge just after dark. The entire way she'd been bombarded with the pros and cons of going through with this, of marrying Gambit for the chance to be normal again. The more practical residents of her mind reminded her that this was a horrible idea, telling her the cost was too high for a slim chance. The more romantic, or crazy, ones were smitten with the idea. Kitty had even begun spinning tales of how the two would live together like one of her formulaic rom-coms.

Another twenty minutes passed and Rogue finally admitted that sleep wasn't coming. With a sigh she kicked off the covers and picked up her old flip phone. The rest of the team had been updated to smartphones long ago. For her it was obsolete technology or nothing; touch screens didn't make much sense when you were always wearing gloves. Yet another thing to add to the list of pros if she took Gambit's offer.

She fiddled with the phone and debated on whether there was anyone she could talk to about this. There had been a time when she refused any input, determined to make her own way in the world, but now it felt too much like a betrayal to keep this from them.

But who to call? Kurt was out of the question, hands down. Rogue loved her brother but after high school he'd begun waving the 'Mutant and Proud' flag. He'd only try to convince her that there was nothing wrong with her, that her mutation was something she should rejoice in. Kitty would probably wake half the mansion trying to get all the details out of her. The adults weren't even an option. Neither were any of the new mutants or the Brotherhood. And Scott, well.

Rogue sighed and set the phone on the night stand as she ran a hand over her face. That was the problem lately, wasn't it? Scott and Jean. Jean and Scott. Now it was only a question of when, not if, he'd pop the question. Any sliver of hope that Scott might notice her one day had been dashed after the last training session she'd participated in. Even when they were on opposite teams he'd still been more concerned about Jean's safety than about his own. Rogue wasn't even an afterthought.

It wasn't as if she was still hung up on Scott, though. She'd long ago moved on, dating a few guys before graduation until she finally ended up in her first real, adult relationship. The same relationship that blew up in her face in more ways than one. No, with Scott it was always the longing for someone to look out for her when no one else would. To keep holding out for her because they knew she was worth it. It wasn't Scott himself, per se. It was what he'd come to represent to her.

Picking up her phone, Rogue turned it over in her hand before punching in the number she'd long since refused to add to her contacts list. She counted the rings, swearing to herself that she'd hang up after three. There was no way the phone would be answered. It was after four back east.

"Rogue? Is everything alright?" Jean asked. Or course she'd pick up after the second ring.

"Everythin's fine, Jean. I just needed to talk to someone," Rogue said. She paused. Calling Jean, her one-sided high-school rival now seemed just as insane as giving Gambit's offer any consideration.

"Rogue?" Jean prompted, her voice more awake despite a yawn.

"If you lost control again and had a chance to get it back, would you?" Rogue asked quickly, her words scattering through the quiet room.

Jean replied without hesitation. "Of course."

"What would you do to get it back?"

Jean is silent for a moment. Rogue imagines her staring out her window, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear and fiddling with her high school ring. "Anything," the psychic finally admits.

With that Rogue knows she's called the right person. Despite their differences, Jean was the only other one to know what it fully meant to lose control. The power that came with it, the rush of euphoria to let everything out. The misery, the shame, the guilt that came after, when reality came crashing back in. Jean was the only one who never looked at her in fear after she'd lost control. The only one who didn't pity her for her lack of control.

Rogue swallows hard and her words are clipped as she fights to get them out. "Even if it meant givin' up Scott? If it meant givin' up the X-Men?"

Jean sighs into the phone, a whisper over the quiet line. They both knew this was about more than just Scott or the team. Rogue wonders how many times the woman has asked herself the same question.

"If it meant I wouldn't be a danger to him or anyone else? I'd do whatever it took. He wouldn't ever understand why, though. He might hate me for it even if I spent a lifetime trying to explain it to him."

"He wouldn't hate you for anythin'," Rogue says softly.

A silence spreads between them. Jean is the first to break it.

"You know, I've never been so scared as I was when my powers first presented. My best friend was hit by a car and dying and I couldn't do anything to save her. I was her, and myself, and the driver. All at once," Jean says, her voice shaky despite the many years between her and the past. "My parents wanted to lock me up after that. They thought that I'd gone insane with grief. If the Professor hadn't come along, I'd probably still be in that asylum, drugged up to keep from hearing other people's thoughts.

"But the Professor came along and he helped me contain my powers. Taught me to control them and make them my own. Last time," Jean's voice hitches. "Last time I went out of control, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there. I didn't even realize I was hurting you, Rogue. I could have k-" Jean chokes on the word.

Rogue bites her lip. She didn't call to go over old history. "But you didn't, Jeanie. The only damage done was to the mansion, and lord knows the rest of us have done worse to it. We're all here, safe and sound despite you and Kitty's baking," Rogue jokes. Her words sound stilted and forced. She never has put much effort into comforting others.

Jean gives her a half-hearted chuckle, more to ease the tension between them. "But what if you weren't alright? What if you hadn't been there, or what if I'd gotten to Jamie first -"

"If's and what coulda' been's don't matter," Rogue interrupts. "What does matter is no one got hurt worse than Mr. McCoy could fix."Jean drops it and Rogue wonders if she should have let the psychic say her piece. They hadn't talked about the incident since it happened.

"Can I at least ask why?"

Rogue picks at the old comforter. "I got somebody offerin' me help."

"Do you trust them?"

She nods. "I think so. At least, I have in the past." Her words sound more certain than she feels.

"What do they want in return?"

"Nothing I'm particularly attached to. Especially after this last year," Rogue admits.

Jean's quiet for long enough that Rogue wonders if she's fallen asleep. "Do it," Jean finally says. "If I hadn't taken the Professor's help I don't know what would have happened to me. Him taking me on as a student was the greatest gift anyone could have given me. If he told me I had to fly to the moon and back for his help I'd have done it twice. I only wish he could help you like he helped me."

That was the closest any of them had come to admitting that the Professor wasn't able to help all his students, a recognition that his teachings weren't infallible. The admission felt raw and sore to the touch and Rogue almost wished she'd never picked up the phone.

"Thanks, Jeanie."

"Anytime you need me, Rogue. Just, please be careful. We're only a phone call away if you need us," Jean says her before hanging up, leaving Rogue alone with her thoughts once more.


	5. Acceptance: Part 1, or Terms and Conditi

Acceptance: Chapter 5, or Terms and Conditions May Apply

Rogue sat in the parking lot across from the courthouse, her long coat pulled tight against the February winds. She'd arrived twenty minutes before it opened only to find Remy already leaning against the courthouse. Since then she'd watched him chain smoke, a tenseness in his body she'd only ever seen during battle. He probably knew she was there watching him though he'd never given any indication he knew she was there. Probably expecting her to turn around any minute now, away from him and back to her comfortable, mostly normal life.

To his credit, she hadn't heard a peep from him since he'd texted her. Rogue had assumed he'd send her something, anything, to plead his case again. To remind her how desperate his situation was. Instead, he'd let her sleep on it and make up her own mind about all of this.

She sighed and tugged her scarf closer. It was foolish for her to have even let him sit down with her at the bar, to listen to his offer. He was tempting enough; now with the added allure of control Rogue was beginning to feel as if she was about to make a deal with the devil. The longer she sat the more she realized how stupid it was to come here without letting anyone know where she was, or who she was with or why she was even there. And it was damn right dangerous to even begin to consider walking into that building with him.

And yet she couldn't seem to resist. For once in her life she had a chance of control. No longer would she have to wait around for a 'breakthrough' in her psychological makeup. No more waiting around for the future what-if's. No more knowing someone's favorite ice cream and darkest secret with a single touch. No more avoiding crowds, or flinching at accidental contact, or isolating herself from her friends and family for their safety.

If she were entirely honest she knew she wasn't here solely on the promise of control. He wanted her, the untouchable, as she was now. Without control and with several dozens of people running around in her head. He knew about her past, her anger issues, her worst qualities, and yet he still wanted her.

Or at least, he thought he did. And that was more than anyone else had ever offered. In her previous relationships they'd all thought that with enough of a motivation, she'd have a breakthrough, that she'd come to a place where she could touch, even if it were only for a few seconds. The less said about those relationships, the better.

It didn't help that her decision was made harder by the fact that she was more than just physically attracted to him. They'd both known their share of heartbreak and disappointment, yet they still came out of it stronger. Despite their constant bickering there was something there below the surface, some ability to know how to help the other. Even after the fallout from a mission out to Alaska two years ago, she'd felt a connection with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else since Logan. Since Risty.

Whoever the woman was that he was running from had to be something if he was turning to Rogue for this. It almost seemed a fitting trap for the both of them. Her wanting nothing more than to touch, him needing something more stable than his family was willing to offer. The only question was what did either of them do to deserve this?

Rogue quickly shook that line of thinking out of her head. This line of thinking wouldn't do either of them any good, really. They were both trapped, him by his family, her by her mutation.

Tired of her indecision, Rogue quickly stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. In little less than a minute she'd made the walk over to him. Without a word he handed her a thin box no bigger than one of his playing cards. Curious, Rogue opened it and found a matching set of rings nestled in the velvet inside.

"What're these?"

"Rings," he said through a puff of smoke.

"Thank you for clarifyin' that," she scoffed. Picking up a ring, Rogue turned it over in her hand to inspect it. The ring is thin, no inset stones or raised metal. It's nothing more than a metal band inlaid with some sort of archaic design. The symbols in the design pull at memories that aren't hers and she fights to stay in the present. "You steal these from some happy couple?"

"Non. Guild law says whatever a thief makes his first job, he pays the same for weddin' bands."

Rogue snorts and puts the ring back into the box. "McDonald's had a slow day then?"

"Not 'less they bring in enough for adamantium," he says without elaboration.

Rogue almost drops the box in shock. She snaps it shut and pushes it back into his hands, not trusting herself with the world's most expensive metal. "Do I want to know what you stole to pay for these?"

Gambit grinned at her, amusement lighting up his eyes. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he jokes, shoving the box back into his coat pocket.

Rogue scowls and leans against the building beside him. "You almost damn near did that the last few times I was with you." The wind shifts, bringing with it the noise of the city beginning to wake up. "How do I know you ain't anglin' for somethin' this time?"

"Couldn't harm a pretty face like yours, now could I?" he jokes. She stares him down until his smirk falls. "Din' think you'd actually come," he finally admits. He fidgets under her stare.

"Yeah, well. Neither did I," she admits, turning to watch the traffic pass them by.

"'m glad you did," he says softly.

Rogue shrugs, unsure of what to say to that. "I ain't leavin' the X-Men."

"Never thought of askin'."

A group of people pass by and the pair falls silent for a moment.

"This whole thing's insane," she whispers after a time. Though he doesn't respond, his silence is agreement enough. After a few heartbeats she finds the courage to continue. "I got conditions if we're gonna do this," she warns.

"Only sensible," he says, dropping his cigarette and grinding it beneath his boot.

Rogue nods, trying to remember the fancy words she'd come up with last night. A lack of sleep, anxiety, and confusion make her tongue heavier than lead in her mouth and she swallows several times before speaking. "I pick if, and when, we tell my people. Not you," she says, offering up the easiest to agree to first. Remy nods and lights up another cigarette.

"No more lyin' to me, Cajun. And none of those omissions or side-steppin' of your's. I ask a question, I expect a straight answer." Rogue pauses, waiting for an argument that doesn't come.

"Goes both ways then, p'tite," he murmurs. "You ain't exactly been forthcoming with me since we first met. Or should I bring up D.C.?" His words dredge up a tinge of regret that she quashes quickly enough. If he really were as good of a thief as he claimed she never would have been able to give him the slip during a Pentagon lockdown.

Instead of arguing she nods. "Fine. I'll tell you the truth so long as you do the same."

"That's it? No fightin' about keeping things a secret?" he asks lazily.

Rogue glares at him, knowing he's trying to pick a fight. It's not the first time he's done so, but it will be the first she doesn't take the bait. Not when his offer is something she can't shake. "I said fine, didn't I?"

"Anythin' else?" Gambit grins, knowing he won the point. Rogue looks away to keep from slapping the smirk off his face.

"Promise me that you won't do anythin' stupid on my behalf. You're a damn sight more reckless than I care for, 'specially when you get cocky. I know you made some pretty promises the other night, but I ain't having you die on my account."

"D'accord," he says lightly. Gambit stubs his half-finished cigarette out on the brick behind them. He stands to his full height and Rogue realizes he's grown at least another inch since the last time she's seen him. "Ready to hear my conditions?"

Rogue snorts and crosses her arms, refusing to back down. "Don't think you're in a position to be makin' any demands, Swamp Rat," she snaps.

Gambit narrows his eyes at her. "You ain't the only one puttin' it all on the line, River Rat. Or you forget the reason you agreed to be here? It ain't just your life on the line, _chere_ ," he spits.

Something clenches in Rogue's chest at the possibility of losing what little hope she'd built up on his promises. She bites her lip before she can say anything else.

"Don't ask me questions about my past. There's thing's there you ain't got reason to know about."

Rogue sucks in a sharp breath, irritated that he'd already trying to back down on what he's already agreed to. "I ain't going to be lied to again, especially not by you, Cajun," she hisses.

The muscles in Gambit's jaw twitch and his eyes flare to life. For the first time, his anger is directed towards her and a voice reminds her he's known as the White Devil for a reason. Rogue fights the urge to step away from him.

"And I'm tellin' you not to ask me about what I've done in the past. You can ask me about anythin' from here on out, but the past is off limits. I ain't tellin' you about what I've done. Those thing's could get that pretty little head of yours in worse trouble than you been in lately if you knew about it. Same goes for anythin' I learn that ain't mine to tell.

"And that goes both ways, Rogue. Anythin' you learn from touchin' someone is off limits. That ain't your's to tell to begin with. And I won't ask you anything about your time with Mystique. Cause I doubt the two of you were doing macrame and pasta art, 'less military weapons caches and government warehouses have started holding summer camps."

This time Rogue does take a step back from the man in front of her. "How'd you -" her question falters before she can even ask it. No one knew about that part of her past. As far as she was concerned that was back when she thought she was normal, back when Mystique and Destiny were training her for an altogether different life. Stiffly, she nods her agreement and he continues.

"After this we head down to get things squared away so there's no doubt about this marraige. Otherwise, Remy ain't getting out of New Orleans any time soon."

"Fine," she says tightly, already knowing this was coming. After all, there wouldn't be much point to any of this if there weren't a family reunion after. "Anything else?"

"Oui," he pauses, looking unsure. "Give this a chance," he says, gesturing to the space between them.

Rogue stares at him, unsure what he was referring to. "A chance for what?"

"A chance to make this somethin' other than a business arrangement," he says gently. His hand lifts slowly, reaching to push her bangs from her face.

Self-preservation kicks in and Rogue goes completely still, holding her breath to avoid brushing exposed skin.

"I care 'bout you, Rogue, whether you want to believe it or not. Wish we could'a gone about this the normal way, but that never seems an option for people like us. Think we could both be happy, so long's you let it happen."

Slowly, Rogue nods, her stomach clenching in a way she ignores for now. Gambit stares at her a moment longer before he drops his hand. To be safe, Rogue takes a step away from him and ignores his wounded look.

"Fine. But I'm not making you any promises."

"All I can ask for." Gambit heads towards the courthouse and opens the door with a flourish. "After you, p'tite."


	6. Acceptance: Part 2, or Plum Looks Good

pThe courthouse clerk peered over her glass to stare at the pair in front of her, her face a picture of bureaucratic boredom. "Any objections?"/p

pRogue bit the inside of her cheek to keep from looking over her shoulder, convinced Logan would pop up any minute now to drag her back to sanity. When no one answered, the clerk stamped a few pages and mumbled the traditional, "You may now kiss the bride."/p

pGambit leaned against the counter, a sly grin on his face as he waited for Rogue to make the first move. Her lip curled at his surety that she'd be the first to back down. More to wipe the smug look from his face than any real want, she reached up and cupped his face in his hands. His face softened at her touch. Careful to keep from touching his skin, Rogue pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss. After four counts she pulled away./p

pThe shocked look on his face is worth it, though bright plum really wasn't his color./p

pIt isn't until she's halfway down the steps of the courthouse that Gambit catches up to her. "Didn't know you were gettin' control on your own."/p

pRogue shoved down the pang of guilt his psyche radiated at his words. Briefly, she wondered if the real one felt the same way. "I wasn't," she said, her words sharp and short./p

p"Then how'd-"/p

p"Matte lipstick." She picked up her pace towards the parking lot in the hopes he'll get the hint. "Gives enough of a barrier to allow for a few seconds of contact."/p

pGambit stopped on the edge of the road and Rogue turned to look at him. The fire was back in his eyes and it sent a shiver of something through her. /p

p"Think I can work with that," he muttered. /p

pxxxx/p

p"C'mon in, chere. Only the best to celebrate out nuptials," Gambit said. He held open the door to the old Denny's for her and dropped into a low bow./p

pWhen he told her of a good place to eat, she'd expected something a bit more upscale than this. At the sight of the cracked plastic booths, Rogue's lip curled. Compared to this place, Sam's restaurant was a three-star Michilin. Somewhere overhead the heater choked into life./p

pThe host gave them a questioning look, almost as if she wanted to warn them to turn back while they had the chance. Next to her, Gambit flashed a smile and held up two fingers. "Two, please."/p

p"Now what?" Rogue asked after they'd been seated and gotten their drinks. /p

pAcross the booth Gambit leaned against the wall and stretched out his legs. "Now, we wait a few days."/p

pThe plastic squeaked underneath her as she shifted. "Figured you'd wanna rush back home and tell everyone's the weddin's off."/p

p"Can't do that," Gambit said. "Go back too early, looks suspicious. Gotta have enough time to consummate the marriage or it ain't valid. Remy's got a reputation to consider," he said with a wink. /p

pRogue scowled and ripped open a set of sugar packets into her coffee. /p

p"'sides, we still gotta get our stories straight. How'd we meet. Fall in love. Propose, and all that nonsense," he said with a wave of his hand./p

p"How I haven't killed you yet," she muttered into her coffee."/p

pHe shot her a lazy grin. "'xactly."/p

pRogue fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Might as well stick to part'a the truth. You first tried to blow me up me up, then kidnapped me into attending an impromptu family reunion."/p

p"After you kissed me," he reminded her."/p

p"Don't count if I don't remember it."/p

pGambit frowned, and it struck Rogue that they'd never talked about what had gone on between them before Apocalypse. In the weeks after the battle, most of the X-Men had shifted through reams of documents and video. Pyro and Colossus had stayed to help in the cleanup, yet Gambit had been curiously absent./p

pBefore she could ask where he'd been, the waiter stopped to take their order. When he left, Gambit slid his feet off the booth to face her. /p

p"Can't believe you'd forget your first kiss."/p

pRogue couldn't help but snort. "Why do guys always think they're your first anythin'?"/p

pGambit raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't?"/p

pThis time she laughed at his blatant curiosity. "Not by a long shot. Cody Robbins. Behind the bleachers after homecoming freshman year. He tried it again a few months later and my mutation kicked in. You?"/p

p"Belladonna." He made a face as if the name was a bad taste in his mouth. "Tried protectin' her from a bunch of thugs and she kicked all our asses. Kissed me when she saw me a few weeks later and realized who I was."/p

p"What killed the romance?"/p

pHe snorted and drained the rest of his coffee. "Kept after me even when I told her I was done. Girl like that won't stop 'til she gets what she wants."/p

p"Sounds a little obsessed if you ask me," Rogue said, curious about this mystery woman. /p

p"More like she knew what was coming quicker than I did. Growing up we were told family's the most important thing, and she took it to heart better than I did. Marius saw us gettin' close and decided it was easier to join forces than keep fighting." Gambit played with his empty cup, his voice tight as he dredged up his past. "Even with knowing all that Bella got it in her head it was our destiny to be together. Think she really did love me, once. Least ways, as much as she's able to."/p

pRogue waited a moment, hoping he'd say something else. When he didn't, she asked, "You don't really like her much, do you?"/p

p"Hard to like anyone who's stabbed you in the back as many times as she has," he said with a scowl./p

p"Well, I'll be. A woman Gambit can keep his hands off of," she teased. She gave him a small smile as she leaned back in the booth. "Wonder if it'll rain."/p

p"Hush up and finish your coffee," he snapped./p

pStartled by his abrupt change in manner, Rogue didn't say anything else. Gambit always had been cagey about his past, an expert in sidestepping questions he didn't want to answer. But this was the first time he'd reacted badly to a question. The waiter dropped off their plates and Gambit stabbed at his food, content to ignore her./p

pRogue slipped off her gloves and cleared her throat. "Didn't mean to offend." He glanced at her briefly but didn't say anything. "Cody's still in a coma," she said before taking a bite. /p

pThis time, Gambit stared at her. Her words were nothing more than a peace offering, a bit of information in exchange for the little he'd told her. /p

p"He was AllState Champion that year. Already had a full ride to Ole Miss. His mama still visits him everyday after work." Her tone is clinical and detached as it always is when she talks about someone she's absorbed. It makes it easier, somehow, to strip the emotions from things. It's been so long since she'd thought of Cody it doesn't seem real, yet she still knows how his skin felt against hers. What it felt like to pull him into herself. The kick of power./p

p"After he graduated he wanted to get married. Reckoned himself half in love with me already and I just about killed him. We'd grown up together, two doors down from each other. I'd talk about running away to some exotic place, London or Marakesh. Anywhere but Caldecott. He made me promise to send him postcards. Don't know if he'll ever wake up. Doubt he'd want to see me if he does."/p

pHer words are cut off as a sharp, piercing pain shot through her temple. In the dark corners of her mind a scream rang out. Cody, she realized. Another shock of pain runs through her and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. One of her hands slipped through the table and Rogue jerked to sit up straight. /p

pBlood coated the inside of her mouth, her tongue an unaware victim of the pain. Rogue focused on the coppery sweet taste to keep her distracted from Cody's own rage and despair./p

p"Rogue?" Gambit's voice sounds like it's coming from a fish tank, distorted and small./p

pJust as quick as he'd come, Cody gets swept along in the undertow of her mind and the pain recedes. Rogue opened her eyes to find Gambit half-standing over the table, his arm outstretched towards her. /p

p"Y'alright?"/p

pRogue waited a moment, just to be certain, before she nodded and lowered her arms. "I'm fine. I'm all right now. Just a side effect of the absorption." With a shaky hand, Rogue reached for her water. She braced herself for the inevitable barrage of questions, but Gambit only leaned back in the booth and gave her an appraising look./p

p"How's it work, anyways?" /p

pIt's a shock how easily he asks about her mutation, his tone no different than if he'd asked about the weather. There's a part of her that's relieved he wants to know how her mutation worked. Aside from the absorption part, no one ever seemed to care how it happened. The other part was irritated he'd ever asked in the first place./p

pAs much as she wants to brush off his question, she did promise to at least try. /p

p"Depends on how long I touch someone. If it's not more than a brush of skin, I only get a shadow of their personality, maybe a few memories. Any longer, or if I touch them more often, the more solid their shadow gets. Kitty and Logan are the most like themselves. Most days half the team is chattering on about something or another, but after this long they're mostly white noise."/p

p"And when it's not?"/p

pRogue picked at her food. Those were the days she didn't want to think about. Those days meant being cooped up in the Medlab for over a week with a headache painkillers did nothing for. Every now and then it meant losing control of everyone else's powers./p

p"When it's not, my head feels like it's about to burst apart at the seams. Someone's always talking. Thoughts go by so fast I don't know if it's mine or someone else's. Usually I just try and convince Mr. McCoy to give me somethin' strong enough to keep me asleep until it passes."/p

p"What happens if you touch someone too long?"/p

pShe flinched. He'd finally got to the question everyone wanted to know the answer to. The one she tried her best not to think about. /p

p"Cody."/p

pLike her mutation, Cody's personality had kicked through her in full force. In her head, he was exactly like he was when he'd been conscious. Sweet, naive, and not too keen on change. Especially when he realized he'd never again be in his own body. In the past five years, his personality had weaved together so finely with hers Rogue had trouble remembering whether she'd had a dog growing up or if it had been Cody who loved going to state fairs./p

pIn the kitchen a plate crashed to the floor, and Rogue realized Gambit was staring at her. "Ain't we supposed to be figuring out how we're gonna convince people we're in a relationship?" she snapped. /p

pUnperturbed by her change in personality, Gambit shrugged and cut into a pancake. "Figured you had a story already picked out. Doubt I'd be able to sweep you anywhere you weren't willin' to go."/p

pRogue chewed for a minute while she thought about it. "How's one usually go about it?"/p

p"Long nights and drinkin' too much?"/p

p"Aren't you the romantic. It'll do, I guess. We got sent on too many missions and took a shine to each other. Started datin' on the side and realized we could stand each other longer than a few hours."/p

pGambit smirked. "And you call me romantic."/p

pShe rolled her eyes and ignored him, not willing to be sidetracked. "Your family won't ask for too many details, will they?"/p

p"Might," he said with a shrug. "We have plenty of time to figure that out when we get to town."/p

p"What about the proposal?"/p

pGambit shoved the last of his food in his mouth while he thought it over. "Candlelight dinner. Someplace nice, of course. Champagne, dancing under the moonlight."/p

pSomething about the mundane, cliche scenario he'd presented made her laugh. "In other words play it up so no one finds out Le Petit Prince got drunk on Wild Turkey and proposed after getting kicked out of a bar."/p

pHe grinned. "Who says I asked you?"/p

pWith a roll of her eyes, Rogue knew the story didn't matter. "Fine. I proposed. But you still said yes. Why you think they're goin' believe you of all people agreed to get married is beyond me."/p

pRemy batted his eyes at her in a crude imitation of a love struck teen. "Becouse, mon cher, light of my life, sun of my day. I've found my one true love. The woman I want to be with the rest of my life."/p

p"Pretty sappy, even for you."/p

p"No, no. Not sappy, Romantic. You're too cold-hearted Roguey."/p

p Her chest tightened at the nickname. It brought up feelings she still hadn't dealt with. Feelings she didn't want to deal with. Feelings this trip was meant to overwrite./p

p"Don't call me that."/p

p"What? Cold Hearted."/p

pHer frown deepened and she decided to let it go. If she told him what, exactly, he'd only start digging deeper into that part of her past, and that wasn't something she wanted anyone to go into. She picked up her coffee and took a sip. "Anything else we need to cover?"/p

p"Can't keep calling me 'Gambit.' They won't believe this is real if you keep using my work name."/p

p"Fine. No more Gambit, Ray-may." She dragged the syllables out the same way Tabitha and Amara did when he came by the mansion. Gambit scowled at how badly she'd butchered his name and she snickered before asking, "What else do I need to know about your family?"/p

p"Since you asked so nicely, Rouge," he shot back. She pulled a face and he smirked. "You already know Jean-Luc."/p

p"Unfortunately," she muttered./p

p"There's Henri, my older brother. He's been training to take over the guild. Married to Mercy, only non-thief in the guild though she has her own set of skills. They been married seven years now."/p

p"Kids?"/p

pGambit - Remy, she corrected - shook his head. "They been tryin' but the doctors say it's impossible."/p

pRogue felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. She knew first hand just how badly it hurt to know the decision on whether to have kids was already made for her. "What about adoption? Or a donor?"/p

p"Can't. Henri's the next guild heir. If he wants his kid to be recognized, it'd have to be natural born."/p

p"So who takes over? You?"/p

pRemy laughed. "Not a chance. Before he could adopt me, the Elders made it clear I'd never be running the guild. Kinda happy about it now after seein' what Henri's havin' to deal with."/p

p"Sounds like y'all been watchin' too much Games of Thrones," Rogue told him. The little she knew of the show came from Bobby and Kurt, and even with their explanation she still hadn't been able to figure out what was going on./p

p"That show's nothin' compared to what the Thieves got going on. Though I'd suggest not sayin' that around the Elders. Might ruffle the wrong kind of feathers." He leaned over and picked a piece of bacon off her plate and popped it into his mouth./p

p"I'll keep my mouth shut." Rogue made an 'X' over her heart. "Anybody else?"/p

p"Keep an eye on Etienne and Theo. And I'll introduce you to Tant Mattie first. If there's anybody you need on your side it's her, so make sure she likes you. Officially she's just the housekeeper. Unofficially she's been keeping the Gulid running for years. You'll be introduced to everyone else once the marriage is accepted."/p

pRogue frowned at his choice of words. "And if they don't accept it?"/p

pRemy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Then we got bigger problems," he said darkly. "Figured we'd wait three days before we head out."/p

p"What do we do until then?" /p

p"Whatever you want," he said. He slid out of the seat and threw a few bills on the table. "I got business to take care of before we head out."/p

p"Not ever three hours married and we're already seperated."/p

pRemy winked as he shrugged on his jacket. "Just means we get to make up that much sooner."/p


	7. Jurisdiction: Part 1, or Calling Cards

Big thanks to ParisaZarisa for pointing out this chapter ate the middle out of every paragraph. It should be fixed now. If it happens again, I'm cross-posting on AO3 as well. Cheers!

xxxx

Three days later the pair made their way to New Orleans. Remy had taken the lead as they passed the state line about midday, brazenly blowing through Louisiana at twenty miles above the speed limit in that ridiculous red Ferrari, Rogue a good half mile behind him for most of the trip. They didn't slow until the exit to Tchoupitoulas Street. Rogue pulled close behind him, letting him take the lead. Here in the Crescent City it was Remy's show, his play to put on while she was a mere actor. As much as she chafed from the lack of control, Rogue was savvy enough to know they'd only get one shot at this.

According to Remy's unnamed sources the Assassins had the rock holed up in one of their gulf warehouses for the first time in years. All it would take would be to find out which one held it, and enough of a distraction for Remy to slip in, grab the thing, and hightail it out of the city before anyone knew what was going on. The damned fool made it seem easy enough. Rogue knew there was a catch to it somewhere, but she was far too stubborn to try and suck the answer out of him.

Within a few minutes Remy turned into a courtyard, garden walls muffling the sound from the street. The first thing Rogue noticed was how green everything was, a stark contrast from the snowy, frozen landscape up North. Now that they were closer to the coast, the humidity stuck close to her skin and weighed down the air, a reminder that she was closer to home than she had been in years.

As Remy stepped out of the car two well-dressed men came down, eager to meet them. Remy took a piece of paper from one man's outstretched hand, never once looking at him as pulled his rucksack out of the backseat. The other man stood a few feet away from her, smiling politely at her while she pulled out her own bags from the storage compartment. Rogue eyed him warily, unsure of what he wanted.

"They ain't gonna steal it, Rogue," Remy told her when he reached the valet stand.

"From a thief that don't mean much of anything," she muttered to herself. To the man, she said, "If anything happens, I'm comin' for you first." Rogue glanced at his name tag and set him with a glare. "Bill."

The man only nodded, as if this sort of toothless threat came at him daily. "We'll take the best of care wit' it, ma'am," he said, politeness oozing around his words. Like Remy, his accent had been softened from the harsh Creole brogue, probably to ensure more tips from the wealthy patrons they were used to getting rather than any time spent away from the city.

Rogue kept an eye on the man while she made her way up the steps. To her annoyance, Remy chuckled. "Don't think he's gon' do anything with you watching him like that, petit."

Her scowl deepened and she shoved past him through the open doors. At the sight of the lobby her mouth parted at its opulence. Unlike most hotels that had been updated for the modern crowd, this one felt like it had found itself permanently stuck in the 1920's. Floral wall paper covered the walls while antique furniture crowded the bar. The whole scene felt as if it was inspired by one of Kitty's period dramas. A floral scent graced the air, courtesy of an enormous vase filled to extremes with freshly cut yellow roses.

A light touch at the small of her back made her jump. Despite her movement, the hand never lost contact with her. It drew her closer to Remy and her body stiffened at the proximity. Alarm bells rang out in her head, and she did her best to keep her breathing even.

"Might want to close that mouth 'fore you start catching flies," he murmured in her ear, seemingly unaware of her discomfort.

"And you might want to take a step back least I snap that hand off," she snapped back.

"Guild eyes are everywhere, Rogue," he whispered in her ear. "At least try an' act like you don't hate me."

He dropped his hand as he brushed by, deliberately invading her space as he made his way to the concierge.

"At least try and wait until we get a room before you start sayin' those things," he said in a loud enough voice that the bartender glanced towards them.

She flushed and stalked after him. Fortunate for Remy by the time she caught up he was already talking to the concierge in a French patois that she had trouble making out. Remy said something that made the concierge look at her and smile, and Rogue just barely managed to bit her tongue to keep from saying something rude. Instead, she gave the woman a terse smile and turned to face the lobby.

Eyes were indeed everywhere. The bartender gave her curious glances in between cleaning glasses, while the doorman wasn't even trying to hide his stare. She gave both a curt nod and swept her own eyes across the lobby. Now that she knew what to look for it was easy enough to see who was watching.

Rogue took a step closer to Remy in the hope his tall frame might hide her own. She pulled out her phone and, as usual, there were no missed calls. Oddly enough there were three texts from Kurt. Two were standard institute gossip (Amara and Tabatha were now, allegedly, an item according to at least three sources), but the last was a more guilt inducing request to call him least she forget about her own brother.

She snapped the phone shut and shoved it to the bottom of her bag, unable to think about talking to him now. What would she even talk about? At the mention of Remy, Kurt and Logan would both be down here quicker than she could finish the phone call.

A light hand on her waist drew her attention back to Remy and the concierge who was now staring at her with open curiosity.

"You ready, p'tite?" Remy asked.

Rogue nodded and followed him towards the elevators, murmuring a thank you to the concierge. Thirty steps, four floors, and another hundred steps more were spent in silence as the pair walked towards their room.

Remy paused at the door, key card in hand, and gave her a sly look. "Think I should carry you over the threshold? S'tradition, after all."

Rogue, tired and dirty from the trip, held her hands out. "Knock yourself out," she said, knowing he wouldn't take her up on the offer.

Remy grinned and scooped her up in his arms, laughing at her squeal of surprise. "I didn't think you'd do it, Cajun."

"Gotta take the opportunity when she knocks," he said. He shifted her onto his shoulder to slip the key card in the door and stepped inside.

If the lobby was an homage to 18th Century French sitting rooms, the suite was a full blown reproduction of the Palace of Versailles. Remy set Rogue down and turned to check the door and presumably the rest of the room, while she went to the window and drew open the curtains. There beneath her was the thriving beat of the city. The harbor lay to her right, the neon sign of Harrah's barely visible, and she could just make out the French Quarter ahead of her. To her left lay the business district, lined with modern brick and mortar buildings that were in stark contrast to the older, more distinguished buildings only a few miles off.

When she'd had her fill, Rogue turned away from the window only to find Remy lying on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, stretched out as if asleep. With a sigh, Rogue turned away from the window and made her way to the bathroom, ready to get the dirt and grime of the road washed off of her.

Xxxx

Every nerve, every atom, every cell of her being is electrified, overfilled, ecstatic. Another ripple coursed down her spine and a gasp escaped her lips as hand drag along her skin, gooseflesh laying a trail where they'd been. A hand brushed her inner thigh, and her eyes fly open. Red on black eyes catch her own, entrancing her by their brilliance. The hand moved higher and she whimpered, stomach tightening in anticipation.

She trashed on the bad, sheets grasped tightly between her fingers. Her breath comes in hard pants, whispered demands falling from her lips like rain.

A flash of lightening and a boom of thunder blur the image into a vague memory as consciousness floods in.

Rogue sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Thunder rattled the window pane and the darkness is broken up by flashes of lightening. She shivered and drew the comforter closer as she tried to remember what she'd dreamt about.

The room around her is silent and cold. Light seeps in under the door, a sign that Remy is awake in the next room. She's tempted to find him, to beg him to tell her that what they're doing is going to work. The ghosts of an unknown hand have left their temptation on her skin, longing on her lips.

The light clicked off, and Rogue laid back down. In moments she's asleep again, and the dream is forgotten once more.

Xxxx

For the next few days, they'd wander about the city. Remy pointed out places of interest, historically significant sites and spots important to only him. They'd eaten some of the finest food in the city and heard some of the best music the Crescent city had to offer. Over time it became apparent that Remy was presenting her in some fashion to some as yet unseen presence.

Rogue could only wonder how long it could last. Surely, if there were as many eyes following them as Remy claimed there were, someone would have noticed them by now.

And on their third day in the city, it finally happened. Rogue had stopped to look at a dress in a shop window, the velvet dark green and covered in lace. Remy's hand brushed past her and latched onto something, or rather someone who squealed at being caught. She turned and Found Remy holding a boy no older than seven off the ground.

With a nod to her, Remy told the boy, "This one's off limits."

"Says who?" The boy's chin was lifted, defiant and proud. He wriggled in Remy's grasp. His hands swung at every part of Remy he could reach, a fighter through and through. Despite his efforts, he wasn't able to free himself.

Remy gave him a sly smile and flipped a card out of his pocket. The back of it was a deep, ornate crimson pattern, the front of it positioned out of Rogue's eyeline.

"Says someone you should be listening to."

At the sight of the card, the boy stilled long enough for Remy to set him down on the ground. Remy reached into his pockets and pulled out a few bills. He slipped them into the boy's hand.

"Tell the family le fils is home."

The boy nodded, and with one last look at Rogue he slipped into the crowd.

"What was that?" Rogue asked.

"Our calling card," Remy said. He took her hand and lead her down the street to a small cafe tucked off the main road.

As they were finishing lunch, the boy appeared at Remy's elbow. He slipped a folded sheet of paper onto the table and disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared. Remy picked up the paper. As he read it, a grin scrawled across his face.

"Pack your bags, cher, we're going home."

Xxxx

It was long after dark before they pulled into a long drive deep in the swamps. The night was disturbed only by their headlights. Eyes flashed green and red around them before disappearing into the waters on either side of the road, the only signs of life around them. The road split after a long wooden bridge and Remy took the right fork, Rogue hot on his tail. It wasn't long until an old Southern manse grew out of the darkness ahead.

Remy parked near back porch and Rogue pulled up next to him. Without a backwards glance he made his way up the steps two at a time to knock on the door. Rogue took her time to scrutinize the house. Its ornate wood working was dark and tragic in the night, but by the light of day Rogue knew it would be beautiful on its own. If she were more inclined, she would have wondered whether there was an old woman kept in the attic or if there were dead trapped within it's walls.

The only thing that stood out to her between this one and home was the haint blue ceiling. The sight of it sent pangs of homesickness through her chest and not for the first time since crossing the Maison-Dixon line did Rogue wonder what Irene was doing now.

Before she could wonder too long, the backdoor opened and an elderly woman stepped out. At the sight of Remy, her arms opened wide and engulfed him in a hug.

"Remy, my chil', I was wondering how long it would take you to come back home."

Rogue made her way up the steps as she watched Remy return the woman's hug. He brushed a kiss on the top of the woman's head. "Bonne nuit, Tante."

The woman reached for Rogue's hands to greet her with an unexpected warmth. "You must be Rogue. Remy's talked about you. Never did think I'd be able to thank you in person, though."

Rogue's smile was tight at the unfamiliar touch. "Nice to meet you, m'am."

"Come on in, the both of you, so I can get a better look," Tante Mattie said as she ushered the pair into a well-used kitchen. As Remy passed her she boxed his ears playfully. "You couldn't have told me you was coming tonight? You two have a seat, and I'll warm some food up for the both of you."

Rogue slipped into the nearest seat. Over by the stove, Remy and Mattie spoke in low voices, their words softly brushing up against each other. It was a homey scene and Rogue couldn't help but feel like an outsider.

Mattie poured something tick and meaty into two bowls. She handed one to Remy who leaned against the kitchen counter to inhale his food. The other bowl she walked to the table where Rogue sat. His eyes flitted between the two women, watchful, and Rogue began to feel uneasy. They'd been talking about her, she'd caught enough of their conversation to know that, but she hadn't heard enough to know why.

"It won't bite'cha, p'tite." Mattie said.

She held out the bowl to Rogue rather than placing it on the table. When Rogue reached for it, Mattie pushed it into her hands hard enough for the stew to spill across her sweater.

"I'm so sorry," Rogue apologized with a start, her manners kicking in before her brain realized that the woman had all but thrown the stew at her. Rogue stripped her sweater off to wipe what she could into the bowl.

"Not a problem, chere, accidents happen. Now come on over here so I can wash those clothes before a stain sets," Tante Mattie ordered. She came around the table and held her hand out for the sweater.

Rogue's fingers dug into the dripping fabric. She glanced at Remy and found him at the sink with his back turned towards her. Rogue blanched and stepped back towards the woman, uncomfortably aware that the only thing between her and Mattie was a thin tank top.

"Don't come any closer," she warned. She took another step backwards as Tante Mattie crowded her. "I can't -"

"Course you. Just don't pull too hard on me, don't have the same energy I used to."

Rogue's back hit the wall as Mattie's hand gripped her uncovered arm. Flashes of a life long-lived assault Rogue as she tried to pull away. Tante's eyes, still clear after one, two, three seconds, watch her own. The sound of drums and old gospel hymns rise. Laughter and tears, screaming and sobbing. Darkness and light, life and death. All are ghosts haunting the room as the memories wash over Rogue.

After a lifetime, Mattie's hold loosens. She stumbled backwards and Remy guides her back into a kitchen chair.

"What on God's green earth -" Rogues breathed.

As the full force of Mattie's personality and her deluge of memories hit, Rogue's legs buckle under her. The ground beneath her rushed up to meet her, only to be interrupted by a pair of arms.

French weaves through the chattering of a million voices. Rogue's last thought is of old tales and older legends, told to children before bedtime. Thieves and assassins and the dark underbelly of the South greet her with open arms as the darkness surrounded her.


End file.
